Catch My Fall
by GrandeVanillaSkimLatte
Summary: Hermione Granger wanted nothing more than to be at home, curled up with a good book. Draco Malfoy wanted nothing more than to be as far away from his stag weekend as possible. Lucius Malfoy wanted nothing more than to go back to the good old days. All three will end up enduring a weekend they will never forget. DracoHermione.


_**Title:** Catch My Fall _

_**Rating:** M_

_**Pairing:** Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy_

_**Warnings:** EWE, kidnapping, graphic sex scenes, unbalanced parenting, arranged marriage, irresponsible alcohol consumption, voyeurism & borderline crack. _

_**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to J.K. Rowling and rights-holders, one of whom I am not._

_**Category:** Albumfic_

_**Album:** Billy Idol (1982)_

_**Artist:** Billy Idol _

_**Summary: **Hermione Granger wanted nothing more than to be at home, curled up with a good book. Draco Malfoy wanted nothing more than to be as far away from his stag weekend as possible. Lucius Malfoy wanted nothing more than to go back to the good old days. All three will end up enduring a weekend they will never forget. DracoHermione. _

_**Author's notes:** * Inhales deeply * Don't you just love that new fic smell? _

_This one is bought to you by Jack's Songfic/Albumfic Challenge, found at the Twin Exchange Forum (as usual, links can be found on my profile). The Challenge is easy, set your music to shuffle & write a fic on the first song it plays – to find an album I did just that & got to rock out to 'White Wedding' while plotting just which characters I got to torment. The challenge opened on August 15 & closes on December 31, 2012 – so there is still plenty of time to submit if you want to give it a go yourself! _

_Oh, and just in case you were wondering, the title of this fic comes from a song off Billy Idols second album 'Rebel Yell'. The chapters will be named after the songs in album order, but won't necessarily be based on the lyrics – I have taken creative licence & seen where the song titles take my imagination. _

_Well, enough with this ridiculously long introduction & on with the fic. If you like it then please review! Your feedback is always appreciated. Oh, and Merry Christmas, everyone!_

* * *

**Catch My Fall**

* * *

_Chapter One_: Come on, Come on

* * *

_December 22, 2001_

"Come on, Hermione," Harry hissed at her from the side of the stairs leading up to the stage, the red velvet curtains hid them from the hundreds of guests waiting for a glimpse of the Golden Trio.

Ron - the fame-hungry traitor - had already pushed through the gap in the fabric and had been greeted with thunderous applause, which had yet to died down. Having all three of them at the same function was a rarity indeed and a public appearance was something Hermione had spent an enormous amount of time avoiding for nearly three years.

The agoraphobia she had battled with since The Final Battle threatened to consume her. Panic welled in her chest and she wondered if anyone would bother to come looking for her if she just slipped out while the party was in full swing. Harry and Ron would be fine smiling and waving for the happy revellers, they didn't need her for that. She could be home in her flannelette pj's with a hot cup of tea and a good book within the hour.

"Go without me," she hissed back, giving her shaggy-haired friend a pleading look, silently begging him not to drag her out in front of the hundreds of witches and wizards that had gathered for the Ministry Yule Ball. Surely of all her friends, he would be the most understanding.

Not bloody likely.

Harry only rolled his eyes, descended the stairs he had mounted only moments before and grabbed hold of her hand, "Come on, I'm no more happy about this than you are. I'll speak to Kingsley about it later, he knows it's not fair to pull this shit without asking _all_ of us first," he muttered under his breath, completely ignoring her panicked gasps as he turned back toward the curtains.

Heart pounding and an uncomfortable sweat building, Hermione tugged at the slit of her heavily sequined gold dress, cursing Ginny for convincing her to go with the risqué hip-high cut that exposed her legs as she moved and wishing Harry would be a gentlemen and offer her his outer robe. No such miracle happened as he pulled her up the stairs with some force and she began praying that she wouldn't fall over and flash the room.

"Smile, dear," Minister Shaklebolt's assistant said through gritted teeth moments before she pulled back the curtain and pushed them through. Hermione stumbled and some of her worst fears were almost recognized, but Harry's formally robed back provided the support she needed to get stable again as she sought her bearings and fought the urge to drop to the floor and rock in the foetal position. Thankfully, the room only caught a glimpse of her thigh and no other part of her anatomy was displayed for their scrutinizing eyes.

She could see the headlines now: _Naked_ _Granger Cracks like a Christmas Bon Bon at Yule Ball._

The sound was deafening as Harry absently let go of her hand and walked across the stage toward Ron, never once glancing back to see if she followed, instead focusing on smiling and waving at the near hysterical crowed. Hermione forced three deep breaths into her lungs, her gaze honing in on the large medallion the Minister wore over his robes as she took first one step in her ridiculously high, gold heels and then another, her eyes never leaving the glinting piece of jewellery that would have looked obscene on anybody else.

Light bulbs flashed as the media gathered at the Ball captured the first public pictures of the trio together. She became less aware of her careful journey across the polished stage and probably appeared very bewildered when she suddenly found herself wedged between her two best friends. Kingsley stood behind them, his arms wide as he drew them together for a group photo, his dark face beaming in delight as the crowed once again burst into cheers and excited screams.

"Smile, Miss Granger," the Minster reminded her through his teeth, his heavy hand coming to rest on her shoulder in a silent warning to not screw up the moment.

Blinking through her panic at being so out of control of the situation and in front of such a large and boisterous crowed, she knew she had three options.

The first – giving in to hysterics – had its merits, but would have her labelled as unstable and that kind of public attention would only worsen her panic disorder. The second option – running away – would have a similar outcome, but at least when she succumbed to option one it would be far away from the stage they were on. The final option – standing there, shutting up and smiling – seemed to be the only way she was going to come out of the evening bruised, but relatively unscathed.

She felt Ron's slightly sweaty palm grip her left hand, a moment before Harry's broom calloused hand reached for her right. Their touch helped her fight through the panic and gave her something else to focus on besides the overwhelming urge to run. They anchored her through the Minister of Magic's long-winded speech about better times and a better future and tugged her through the motions as their efforts during the Second Wizarding War were recognized again.

The crowed continued to react as if they were at a Quidditch match, eating up Kingsley Shacklebolt's words and standing in awe as Harry thanked them all for coming at the same time as plugging the latest charity he had been roped into sponsoring. Hermione didn't hear any of it as she focussed on getting one even breath out after the other, staring at nothing and nobody in particular.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron's voice gently interrupted her silent panic attack.

Harry had moved away from them, he now stood at the front of the stage signing autographs with a large red and gold quill. She glanced at Ron, finding him smiling at her with a slightly bemused expression, "Come on, I'll get you something to drink. You look like you need it."

She let him lead her off stage and behind the curtain again, some of the tension left her shoulders the moment they were out of view. It took her several more dazed moments to realize Ron was trying to tug his hand out of hers, but she held it firm in a death grip. The moment she became aware of it she immediately dropped her arms to her sides.

"Sorry," she mumbled, smoothing her palms down the front of her sequined dress, ensuring all her assets were still covered by the two strips of fabric.

"Just think, now that we've been seen together in public, we won't have to do it again," he informed her cheerily.

Hermione gave him the glare his comment deserved, "Not. Helping."

"Aw, come on, 'Mione, don't be like that. Sometimes you have to face your demons, like every time I'm home alone and I have to kill a spider. You're scared at first, but then you just –"

He didn't get the opportunity to finish the sentence before one of her ridiculously high shoes flew past his head.

"You knew we were going to be asked up on stage tonight," she accused, her panic moving to the side in the face of her annoyance.

Ron's hand went to the back of his neck, which was rapidly turning red – a sure sign of guilt, "Well, sort of. Kings' mentioned it a couple of days ago – "

Her other shoe barely missed his elbow, and hit the velvet with a dull thud before clunking noisily to the floor, "I take it Harry knew as well? Some friends you are!" she growled, pulling away from the hand that shot out to restrain her, her destination unknown as she stalked away from the tall red-head and the sounds of the crowed behind them.

"Hermione, wait! We were just trying to help!" Ron called out after her. Her only response was to walk faster.

Once away from the stage and the hundreds of eyes, she felt some of her natural confidence return, the part of her that was okay with small groups of people and intimate settings overriding the sheer terror that bigger crowds induced. She forced a tight smile on her face and made her excuses as she dodged past well-wishers and happily drunk merry-makers. Finally the door that led to the London street outside was within reach and she was able to escape the ball.

Hermione barely noticed the bitterly cold wind that whipped about the streets. She gratefully inhaled the frigid air, feeling her lungs unlock as she willed her body to relax. It wasn't as easy as a few deep breaths and some careful meditation to calm her trembling nerves, she could still taste the bile in her throat and her heart was practically beating out of her chest, her body trembled and it had little to do with the weather.

Tears welled in her eyes as she let the panicked feeling wash over her, slowly making way for the anger and humiliation. She was furious with her friends, and even angrier with herself for letting her anxiety disorder get the better of her; she also dreaded seeing the papers in the morning, when her full mortification would be realized in glorious moving pictures.

She hated herself in that moment for being so weak.

Dancing from one bare foot to another, she let the mood swings swirl around her, reciting the clinical and logical reasons behind the debilitating agoraphobia. It didn't help the fact that her bodies fight or flight instinct was in full gear and overriding her internal lecture.

She became less aware of her surroundings as her feet quickly went numb and her inner monologue turned darker and it was any wonder she didn't notice the man in the shadows behind her.

The heavily robed figure was aware of her distraction as well and took the opportunity to move closer to her, his wand drawn, his whispered spells melting into the wind.

Her body froze like stone, the ropes that cut into her arms tightened and a blackness – so much thicker than the night – fell over her vision.

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED – Please Review!_


End file.
